


Refraction

by LtLJ



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Reality, Character of Color, Friendship, Gen, Quantum Mirror, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-27
Updated: 2005-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtLJ/pseuds/LtLJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a Quantum Mirror, and it probably wants to kill them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Refraction

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers to Stargate Atlantis Season 1.

"Don't you think Dr. Corrigan looks like Doogie Howser?"

Rodney McKay was sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, intent on the screen of his laptop, but half-turned so he could keep the mirror in his peripheral vision. He sighed in the long-suffering annoyance of geniuses forced to answer questions about 90s TV shows. "How many times do I have to tell you not to come in here? And that's ridiculous; Doogie Howser was blond."

"Well, Corrigan's a doctor and he looks like he's twelve. Ford thinks so, too."

McKay rolled his eyes. "Oh, and Ford should know, since he was an embryo when Doogie Howser was on."

"He's not that young, Rodney."

McKay flung his hands in the air. "You have a death-wish, don't you? I told you that thing was exerting a powerful influence on you. Will you get out?"

"I'm not in there." With his P-90, John pointed to the line chalked across the wide square doorway. "I'm out here." He let the P-90's muzzle poke just across the line. "That's in there." He withdrew the muzzle and gave McKay his best earnest expression. "This is out here."

McKay grimaced at the laptop, still typing, not even bothering to look up long enough for the earnest expression to make him even more irritated. "It's incredibly, cosmically, infinitely dangerous, and you're drawn to it with every fiber of your being, aren't you?"

"I am not." John couldn't help looking at it; the damn thing was taking up most of the wall on the far side of the room. It looked like a big mirror, its frame the same chased silvery metal as the weapons chairs in Atlantis and in the Atlantis base in the Antarctic. At this distance it was hard to tell that the "glass" had a liquid quality not unlike the event horizon of an open wormhole. The only giveaway that it wasn't just a big pretty mirror was that, despite John and McKay and the tools and equipment spread around, it was reflecting an empty room. "I still like Ford's theory."

John and Ford had found it first, working point as they surveyed the stone temple that might or might not be an Ancient ruin. It was the only thing in the big empty room, besides some faded carving and color on the walls, and at first they hadn't thought it was a big deal. They had seen a lot of weird things lately, and a mirror that reflected the room they were standing in but not them didn't even make the top ten. "Maybe it's broken," John had suggested.

Ford had grinned appreciatively. "Maybe we're vampires."

John had chuckled, the mirror had rippled and invitingly extended a crystalline keypad, and McKay had walked in behind them and screamed like a girl. Or a girl with a deep voice yelling, "Oh my God, it's a Quantum Mirror! Get the fuck away from it!"

After fifteen minutes of frantic explanations out in the hallway, John had said, "Jesus, Rodney, you scared the crap out of me. It's not like we were playing with it; we were just standing there."

"Yeah," Ford had added, a little pissed from all the yelling. "We'd have to do something on that control device and then step in, right? It's not like it was going to grab us and stick us in another dimension."

"You would think so, lieutenant," McKay had said darkly. "Except this one is about four times the size of the one that did grab Dr. Jackson and stick him in another dimension." He added, pointedly glaring at John, "And Jackson doesn't have the Ancient gene!"

"Oh." Ford and John had exchanged a look. John had peeked around the doorway at the mirror again, starting to feel less idiotic about hiding in the hallway from what appeared to be a large piece of decorative furniture. "If it's that dangerous, maybe we should blow it up."

McKay clapped a hand over his eyes. "It's made out of naquadah, like the stargates. We could only blow it up with a naquadah bomb, and that might be problematic, in the 'planet go boom' sense of problematic."

"Okay, scratch that."

The smart thing to do would have been to leave it alone, since the SGC had apparently never found a use for the Quantum Mirror in Area 51, except to go to other dimensions where the Goa'uld were beating the crap out of Earth and everyone was dying or getting turned into hosts or slaves, and there weren't even any evil counterparts of people you knew with beards. So, totally useless.

But unlike the Quantum Mirror in Area 51, this one appeared to be slotted into some kind of rack or plug in the stone floor, as if it was being recharged from an outside power source, not unlike the jumpers when they rested in their launch racks. And the energy signatures were flakey, leading McKay to believe or hope there might be a ZPM or some other power source under the building somewhere. So they had come back with Sergeant Stackhouse's team to investigate further, bringing Dr. Corrigan the archeologist along to try to decipher the Ancient writing all over the other parts of the building for clues. McKay had naturally decided he was the only one not suicidal enough to fling himself into the mirror or trip and fall into another dimension, and he was still sitting near the doorway, keeping a good fifteen feet between himself and the mirror. But he had been working in here for two and a half days, and the mirror hadn't made a wrong move yet. Totally useless, totally boring.

Nothing outside the temple had even shot at them or tried to eat them yet. The ruins were buried in a quiet forest, and John and Markham had taken the jumpers up for a long range sweep to find that the countryside was uninhabited as far as the lifesigns detectors could reach.

And John was still standing here staring at the mirror. Maybe it was his imagination, and the thick stone walls muffling any sound from where the others were working, but a heavy silence seemed to emanate from the clear surface. The click of keys from McKay's laptop sounded a little muffled, as if the sound was traveling at a infinitesimally slower rate than that normally dictated by the laws of the universe. And something about the thing made it seem like it was taking up far more room and had far more mass than that raw amount of naquadah should. It had an oppressive weight to it that seemed to be pulling everything toward it, like a black hole.

McKay glanced up, noticed, and sighed in exasperation. "It's like a moth at a bug-zapper." He threw a crumbled power bar wrapper, which bounced off John's knee. "Why don't you go harass Dr. Howser?"

"His room is even more boring than yours," John told him, but he left anyway.

  
***

  
Some hours later, Rodney closed the laptop and set it aside, rubbing his eyes to dislodge the headache that had settled right in the middle of his forehead. He didn't bother to look at his watch and convert from Atlantean to local time; he knew it was getting late. He had noticed that it was Stackhouse checking on him periodically instead of Sheppard only because of the absence of inane questions and pseudo-scientific theories about why vampires didn't show up in mirrors.

Rodney was almost willing to admit defeat. He had known from the beginning that what the readings might possibly be indicating was not a separate power source but just an anomaly in the mirror's design. That the mirror was feeding power to some other part of itself in some weird improbable subspace feedback loop. In which case, it was useless to them, unless they wanted to visit dying versions of Atlantis to commiserate with people who were even more screwed than they were.

When they had taken this up with Elizabeth, she had asked the inevitable question: "I assume there's a reason why we don't want to try to use it? To try to find a universe where the Ancients are still in this galaxy, or to find an Atlantis with ZPMs to spare?"

Rodney had taken a deep breath, holding on to his patience with difficulty. They had talked this over when they had first found the thing, when Sheppard had asked the same inevitable question. Rodney had gone through a lot more scenarios than necessary, wanting to make sure the others understood it could be like walking into Hell with a capital H, real Hell, absolute Hell, with fire and brimstone and the apocalypse, until Teyla had looked confused and alarmed, Ford had been peering around the corner at the mirror and nervously fingering his P-90, and Sheppard had yelled, "Rodney! Rodney! We get that it's a bad idea, okay? Now stop it, you're scaring the kids!"

In the conference room, Rodney had leaned forward, saying intently, "Elizabeth, think about it. The combinations are infinite, the possibilities endless, and judging by the SGC's experiences, a great many of those possibilities are going to be unimaginably disastrous. What happens if the first Atlantis we visit is under attack by the Wraith? We can't call in an Asgard air strike, like SG-1 did when they went to one of the many Earths currently being invaded by Goa'uld. We couldn't even take in survivors, since if their counterparts are still alive in this dimension, they won't live long. Or what if we find an Atlantis that didn't take in the Athosians, so they never had people with trading contacts, who were adept at finding food on strange planets, and they're starving? Do we try to help them? How much of our limited resources do we commit to it?" _And no matter what you say now, you people are going to want to help them, and I'm not going to be the unfeeling asshole who says no_, he had thought.

But fortunately Elizabeth had frowned for a long moment, then nodded. "You're right. We don't have the time or resources to climb into that quagmire."

  
That had been a relief, anyway. Rodney picked up the laptop again to shut it down, deciding to give it up for the day. He needed to coordinate with Doogie Corrigan and see if he had found anything helpful, anyway.

The temple was cool but a little too humid, and Rodney was starting to desperately need a breath of actual moving air. His legs were cramping from sitting in one position too long, and he was actually starting to look forward to the walk out of the dense forest and through the godforsaken pollen-ridden field to where the jumpers waited, cloaked and protected by their force fields. God, and this was a sign of how much Atlantis had changed him, he was actually looking forward to being with the others again. To watching Sheppard and Teyla take point across the field, their eyes on the tall grass with the casual concentration of lions waiting for antelope to break cover, making Rodney feel almost safe. To listening to Ford and Yamato talk about college football and anime, Stackhouse and Markham torturing each other with descriptions of what they would rather be having for dinner instead of MREs, and Corrigan babbling about Ancient-influenced decorative painting. And he was getting hungry, too.

He was distracted and tired, and when he heard Sheppard's step on the gritty stone floor, he didn't notice that it had come from the wrong direction, not from the doorway. He looked up. "Hey, I said not to-- Oh, no--"

  
***

  
John continued his check-ins with Ford, Teyla, Markham, and Yamato who were guarding their perimeter, walked the corridor outside the mirror room, then switched out with Stackhouse in a last-ditch attempt to save each other's sanity. Which meant Stackhouse walked the corridor outside the mirror room and John followed Dr. Corrigan around to make sure nothing killed him, while listening to excited archeology babble and making absent "uh huh" noises at the infrequent pauses. Just substitute astrophysics or Ancient tech for archeology and this was pretty much what John did normally anyway.

He called it a day when it started to get dark out, and herded Corrigan back over to Stackhouse, stationed at the top of the corridor to the mirror room. "So how's it going, Sergeant? Any revelations?"

"Not as such, Major." Stackhouse smiled tiredly. "I think Dr. McKay's about ready to pack it in."

"That would be a change."

Stackhouse followed Corrigan up the corridor. "There were some fantastic carvings on the west wall I uncovered earlier," Corrigan was saying happily. "I'll show you the photos after dinner."

"Uh huh," Stackhouse said.

John stopped in the doorway to the mirror room, pointedly not crossing the chalk line of doom. McKay was crouched in front of the laptop, staring at it in consternation. "So how many ZPMs did you find?" John asked.

McKay looked up sharply, as if John had startled him. His mouth set in a thin line, then he shut the laptop with a snap. "I found nothing."

"That was a joke, Rodney." _Great,_ John thought. McKay had let his blood sugar drop and it was going to be Evil Rodney all the way back to the jumpers.

***

It was just dusk when they reached the camp. They had landed the two jumpers about a mile from the stargate, on an area of flat stony ground where there was no grass to flatten under their weight and give away their cloaked outlines during the day.

Standing on the ramp of Jumper One, John unclipped his P-90, opened his tac vest and jacket, and stretched, rolling his shoulders, trying to release the day's worth of tension. So far the planet seemed empty of any indigenous human life, and they had the stargate within view, and the handheld lifesigns detectors and the jumpers' sensors to warn them of approaching Wraith and other large predators. It still didn't feel entirely safe, but it felt safer than some places where they had been forced to camp.

The sun was setting past the distant mountains, cloaking the forest in shadow and just grazing the top of the stargate, making the naquadah gleam red. Rodney was standing nearby, and John said around a yawn, "Hey, I'm going to dial in a report to Elizabeth. Do you need to talk to her?"

No answer. Scratching his chest, John squinted at McKay. The light was in John's eyes and he couldn't make out the other man's expression. "Rodney?" he prompted. "That wasn't a rhetorical question."

Over by Jumper Two, Yamato switched on one of the battery lamps, chasing the shadows away. McKay flinched and said, "Um, yes. Um, no, I don't need to talk to her."

"Okey dokey." John headed into the jumper, figuring McKay was just numb from their astounding lack of progress.

***

"So," John said, trying his best to keep his expression only mildly amused, though it was getting difficult. He was stretched out on his side on his sleeping bag, head propped on his hand, listening to the story of Stackhouse's last mission. Apparently a lot of the details had managed not to make it into the official report. "How exactly were you planning to explain to the rest of us why you traded Yamato for beans?"

"It wasn't a trade," Stackhouse protested, wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes. "It was a--"

"Dowry," Corrigan prompted, snickering.

"Oh, yeah, and you were really helpful, doc." Stackhouse prodded Corrigan's leg accusingly with his boot. "My cultural advisor there was leaning against the jumper, laughing like a nut."

"And Halling," Markham added, shaking his head reminiscently. "He just looks at us deadpan and says 'but they are very good beans, Sergeant,' and winks."

"I thought the tribal chief lady was nice," Yamato protested, grinning. John was getting the impression that Yamato had not been entirely unwilling to take one for the team.

Teyla shook her head at them all, smiling in the way that meant "you are all very silly people, but I love you anyway." She pointed out gently, "I warned you about that world. They have many daughters, and very few sons. And perhaps they had already heard from our friends the Enarians that the Atlanteans have many handsome young men."

Ford was all but bent double, helplessly gasping for air. "You know, I thought we were the ones who always ended up in the freaky situations. Nobody ever wanted to marry one of us in exchange for beans."

"Well, you are a lieutenant," John told him, lifting his brows innocently. "I'd have to be offered at least meat and dairy products for you or Elizabeth would go crazy."

"Oh, wow, thanks, Major," Ford snorted.

Teyla poked Ford in the ribs, apparently in the belief that this would help him stop laughing long enough to breathe, and told John, "If we fall short of food before the harvest, Major, we will go to that world again and see what we can get for you."

John rolled onto his back to grin at her. "Hey, I happen to think I'd do pretty well on the bean market."

The only one who wasn't laughing was Rodney. He had smiled a little occasionally, but mostly John kept catching him staring, like he had never seen any of them before.

  
But McKay had been off all evening. After reporting in to Elizabeth, John had found him standing at the edge of the camp, watching the others get out their gear for the night. John had told him that Elizabeth had given them one more day, and then wanted them to pack it in if McKay and Corrigan still hadn't turned up any clue about the mirror's power source. McKay had just looked at him blankly. "Are you okay with that?" John had asked.

Rodney had blinked, an odd look crossing his face, but he had finally said, "Um, yes."

"Are you not okay with that?" John had tried, as an experiment.

Rodney had blinked again, and came up with, "Um."

"Right." John had turned him around and steered him back toward the others. "I think you need to eat a power bar."

But eating dinner hadn't seemed to perk him up any either. Teyla, maybe sensing that something was off, had even offered him the brownie from her MRE. McKay had just quietly said no, thank you, and after Ford had bounced up and down saying, "Me! Me! Can I have it? Please?" she had given it to him instead. John had seriously thought about dialing the gate and calling in a medical emergency.

"So we just stood there, looking like the village idiots from Monty Python," Stackhouse was saying, finishing the story.

"Only without the handkerchiefs tied around our heads," Markham added.

"And they just decided that they didn't want any of us swimming in their gene pool after all."

Later, when they were getting ready to sleep, Corrigan, in the midst of packing up his PDA, notebooks, and cameras, had to prompt McKay to take his laptop case into the jumper for the night, reminding him that they weren't supposed to leave anything outside that couldn't be abandoned in an emergency. Considering that McKay was usually willing to throw his body in front of a laptop to protect it, John decided this had gone from the realm of weird into the realm of disturbing.

He followed McKay up the ramp into Jumper One, the lights brightening for John as he stepped inside. A few paces ahead of him, Rodney flinched, startled. "It's just me," John said, maybe unnecessarily, but McKay's nervousness was starting to make him jumpy. He stepped past McKay, going to the cockpit hatch and thinking about sensor screens. Teyla had been minding the handheld lifesigns detector while they ate and talked outside, and the jumper was set to warn them if it picked up anything, but John still liked to check it himself. The jumper helpfully popped up its lifesigns detector display, showing him the area for miles around was still comfortingly empty except for their own little cluster, then it displayed the screen that detected incoming air and spacecraft, also nicely empty.

Feeling awkward, he faced Rodney, propping himself up by leaning on the catch-all above the bench. "Rodney, is anything wrong? Are you feeling okay?" This felt weird. Nobody ever had to ask McKay if anything was wrong. If it was, he told you. If it wasn't, he told you. He told you a lot, at high volume.

McKay was staring past him at the glitter of the jumper's holographic HUD, as if he had never seen it before. He switched the stare to John, looking at him as if he had never seen him before. "I never realized-- You--" He snapped out of it with a twitch. "I mean, no, I'm fine."

"You're not acting fine." John eyed him uneasily. McKay was watching him with a deer-caught-in-headlights stare that was kind of unnerving. "Did you...somehow find out something from the mirror, just for example, that we're all going to die and there's nothing we can do about it?"

McKay looked away hurriedly. "No. Uh. No, nothing like that. No."

"Not the most reassuring response possible." John scratched his head. "So, what's wrong?"

Rodney shook his head, sitting on the bench, tucking the laptop case under it. "I.... It's the mirror, and looking for a power source, and.... It's just...all hit me at once. I'm overcome." Rodney had his face turned away, but John still saw the eye roll and wince that showed he knew exactly how lame that sounded.

_Damn, he's such a bad liar_, John thought, watching him with a lifted brow. He let his breath out, giving in. "Okay." He drew the word out just enough to let Rodney know he wasn't buying it. He pushed off from the hatch, giving Rodney a clap on the shoulder as he ambled past.

As he stepped off the ramp the interior lights switched off, as if Rodney either wanted to sit in the dark or didn't have the concentration to keep them on. Teyla was waiting for John just past the reach of the battery lamps.

"Is Dr. McKay well?" she asked, sounding worried.

"Not really." John watched Rodney come out of the jumper. He stared back at the little ship as if it was some new and baffling thing, wandered in a circle, then got pointed back to the camp, moving uncertainly toward the others.

"He has been forgetful and distant all night." Teyla added soberly, "And he is never forgetful and distant."

"Yeah. I'm starting to think that mirror did something to him, and he just won't admit it. Or doesn't remember it." John considered it, frowning absently. Rodney wasn't acting impaired, or ill. There was always the chance that he was just radically off his game from stress. That mirror scared the crap out of Rodney, and he had put a lot of effort into making sure that it scared the crap out of them, too, so they treated it like the dangerous thing it was.

"He seems worried." Teyla shook her head. "He looks at you...oddly."

John shrugged, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. He was more worried about Rodney's evasiveness. "He's been doing that to everybody."

Teyla looked up at him, though he couldn't see her expression in the dark. "But mostly you."

John took a deep breath, and made his decision. "If he's still acting like this in the morning, we're going to pack it in and take him home for a double date with Dr. Beckett and the Ancient MRI machine."

Teyla nodded. "I think that is wise, Major."

***

Rodney woke lying on a cold metal floor with a headache like somebody had used a diamond drill on his scalp. He also had the conviction that something really, really bad had happened and that he probably didn't want to open his eyes. He clutched his head, groaning, trying to put off a return to reality as long as possible. But the floor was incredibly uncomfortable and about to do something permanent to his back, and he couldn't stay here forever.

_Oh, fine, then, here goes,_ he thought. He opened his eyes and saw he was in a dimly lit hallway that looked like it belonged in Atlantis, and Sheppard was standing over him. Only it was the wrong Sheppard. "Oh, God," Rodney muttered. "I'm in that Star Trek episode. I didn't even like that one. At what point did this become my life?"

Rodney had known immediately, when he had looked up and seen the man standing over him in that damned temple. This Sheppard looked older and harder, and there was no mistaking the difference, even in the same uniform and tac vest. And the bastard had used a Wraith stunner on him, or something similar. Whatever it was, it had knocked Rodney out like a blow from a club. The person who was definitely not Sheppard said, "Get up."

Rodney shoved himself upright and staggered to his feet. There were half a dozen Marines in the dim corridor, all with familiar faces, all casually pointing P-90s at him. And, as if this experience wasn't already bizarre enough, they were actually in one of the softly colored metallic corridors of Atlantis, but it was lit by electric bulbs strung up on black cable. The lights in the square pillars, the wall bases, and the indirect overheads were all off; even the green bubble pillars were silent and dark. He looked around, baffled. _Atlantis? They brought the mirror to Atlantis? How incredibly stupid. _ "Where-- What happened to the lights? And why the hell did you people grab me? They're going to come after me, you know. Say what you like about the size of my ego, but I think even your counterpart is going to notice when--"

Rodney didn't realize Sheppard had grabbed him until his head hit the wall and the man's boney forearm rammed into his throat. With soft menace, Sheppard said, "We didn't go to all this trouble to get you here so you could talk us to death."

_Oh, God_, Rodney thought, struggling to get a breath. Sheppard's hazel eyes were red-rimmed and not just a little crazy. And he didn't just look older; close up, Rodney could see the sprinkle of gray through the unruly dark hair, the fine lines around his eyes and mouth. Rodney made a noise indicating lack of oxygen, and when Sheppard grudgingly released him, he coughed until his lungs managed to re-inflate. _Of course he's crazy. _ Of all the things you could use a Quantum Mirror for, kidnapping someone from another universe had to be at the top of the Plans Only Insane People Would Seriously Consider list. _Just try not to die until the real Sheppard gets off his ass and comes after you. _ He gasped, "Okay, okay, I'm cooperating here!"

Sheppard stepped back and turned away, his movements short and sharp, totally lacking the other version's easy grace. And while Sheppard had always looked like he was nothing but bone and muscle, this man could have passed for a heroin addict.

A Marine prodded him to move, and Rodney stumbled down the corridor. He didn't understand how Sheppard could be older, unless this mirror accessed alternate universes at different points in time. But that didn't make sense. He recognized all the Marines -- there was Benson, Audley, that guy whose name he could never remember -- and they looked the same as they always had--

_Oh, God. _ Rodney finally processed what he was seeing, and stopped so abruptly someone walked into him from behind. _Sheppard's been fed on by a Wraith. _

His stomach made a determined effort to turn over and Rodney found himself leaning against the cold dead wall. "I'm sorry," he said thickly. "I'm not being obstructive, I just have to be sick for a minute here. It was the stun, I think--" He took a deep breath, forcing down nausea. _That's not-- That isn't-- He's back at the temple on M5X-273, wondering where the hell you are. _ After a moment his brain managed to believe it, though his stomach still wasn't entirely convinced. He still had to steel himself to look at the man waiting with barely restrained impatience. "Okay, that's fine, let's go."

***

  
They took Rodney up to the operations tower; it was quiet and dark, lit only by more strings of electric bulbs. There were laptops set out on some of the stations, and it looked like the dialing console for the stargate was active, but the holographic screen wasn't up and none of the Ancient systems seemed to be initialized. The few people working there had familiar faces, but they just glanced up, then hurriedly looked away.

With the darkness and the prison camp atmosphere, this was like some kind of freakish nightmare. Rodney could hardly believe he was really seeing it. "What are you using for power?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Benson said, "Naquadah gen--" Sheppard threw a dark glance at him and the man shut up.

"Ah. That's what we're using," Rodney managed. _They are living in the dead carcass of this city. _ This was even worse than any of the scenarios he had originally come up with, and that was saying something.

There was only one panel door open to the conference room off the control gallery; Rodney wasn't sure if they had gotten it to work like it was supposed to or had just broken it open. Sheppard paused outside, hands working on his P-90, as if steeling himself. Then he stepped through the open panel. Benson prodded Rodney after him, but he and the other Marines stayed outside.

The room was dimly lit, but he could see Elizabeth Weir seated at the table, dressed in her usual red and gray uniform. "My," she said, smiling at Rodney in welcome. Sheppard moved slowly to her side of the room, but didn't look at her. "The resemblance is strong."

Something in the way she said it, something Rodney couldn't quite define, sent a little chill right up his spine. "Well, it would be, wouldn't it," he said, lifting his chin. "Could you tell me why you brought me here?"

"It's very simple." She gestured, and Rodney saw the glint of gold on her wrist. He didn't remember the real Elizabeth wearing much jewelry with her uniform. It was odd, but it didn't explain why his scalp was creeping. "We needed your help."

"With your power problem, I assume." Rodney found himself swallowing in a dry throat. Behind her, Sheppard started to pace, as if he couldn't bear to stand still. "Do you know why the Ancient equipment won't initialize?"

Her mouth quirked in what would have been a friendly expression, if Rodney hadn't known that she was responsible for ordering his kidnapping. "I have the Ancient gene, as I assume the Elizabeth Weir of your universe does, but I've only been able to get a few of the city's systems to function."

"Yes, I see." He didn't see. She made it sound as if she was the only one here who had the gene. No mention of Carson Beckett's ATA gene therapy, and Rodney had no intention of bring it up. Not at the moment. Not until they started threatening him. Watching Sheppard pace, his jerky movements like a wild animal on a leash, made Rodney fairly certain that there were going to be threats sooner or later. He rubbed his forehead, trying to make himself focus. "I'm curious as to why you didn't just ask for help through the mirror. We had made the decision not to commit resources to exploring other universes, but I'm fairly certain there would have been no objection to sharing our data on the city's functions with you."

Elizabeth shrugged, and said lightly, "Well, perhaps we should have just asked, then." Sheppard threw a contemptuous look at her. Something was very wrong with Weir, and it was even more disturbing that Rodney couldn't put his finger on it. Lifting her brows, she continued, "But our version of you was never able to accomplish much."

"I see. Then that's one trait he and I don't have in common." Rodney grimaced. _Oh fine, in this hellhole universe I'm probably some sort of asinine caricature that could double for Dr. Smith. There's probably a robot that shrieks "Danger, Radek Zelenka!" _ "Where is my counterpart, by the way?"

"He isn't here at the moment," she said easily.

_Oh right, uh huh. He's probably dead. God, they probably killed him, right after they ate the Athosians. _ He wanted her to think he believed her, that all they wanted was a little of his time and effort on their ATA problem, so he asked, "If I help you, you'll let me return to my universe?"

She didn't hesitate. "Yes, of course." As Sheppard passed behind her again, she reached out and caught his gun belt. Sheppard froze instantly, not looking at her. She pulled him to her side, patted his hip gently as if admonishing him to stay put, apparently ignoring the expressive mix of resignation and revulsion that had just crossed his face. She turned back to Rodney. "That was always our intention."

Rodney didn't realize he had been backing away until he bumped into the door panel. "Ah, right. I'll just get started immediately, shall I?" His stomach clenched and he knew he would have agreed to just about anything to get out of that room.

"Immediately," Weir agreed, and moved the hand Rodney couldn't see anymore. Sheppard flinched.

Rodney backed out. _God, she's acting like a-- Oh, no. _ The thought of just what might be wrong here hit like another blow to the head, and he felt sick. He jumped when Benson grabbed his arm. "I, uh--"

"They're going to be busy for a while," Benson said, pulling him away, his gravelly voice grim. "You'll work over here."

***

John was having one of those dreams about not being able to move, but for once, there weren't any Wraith in it. He was lying out under a night sky near the comforting bulk of Jumper One, and there were drifts of light mist visible in the single lamp that was still lit. Instead of wet grass and dirt, the night air smelled acrid and sharp, like a chemical spill. His head was turned so that he could see Jumper Two's open ramp, and the blurred outline of Teyla and past her Stackhouse lying asleep. He could just see the bottom half of Ford's empty sleeping bag.

The fuzzy thought surfaced: _That's right. Ford and Markham had the first watch. _ Rodney's spot between John and Teyla was empty too, but he only slept a few hours a night anyway, and had probably gone into the jumper to work. Now that John thought about it, he was pretty certain he had been vaguely conscious of Rodney getting up and moving around earlier. _So...this isn't a dream. _

But if it wasn't a dream, why couldn't he move?

Then the acrid odor settled in his chest like liquid lead. His vision fuzzed out and the planet seemed to do a slow flip. John held his breath instinctively. _That's not mist, that's something else. _

Adrenalin and his suddenly pounding heart cleared his head. He tried to sit up, but nothing happened. His body felt limp, heavy. He made a huge effort and managed to roll over, burying his face in the sleeping bag, trying to breathe through the nylon.

After a long hazy time of inadequate air, he felt a breeze on the back of his neck and heard the dry grass down in the meadow rustle as the wind came up. He lifted his aching head cautiously, saw the mist was thinner, the drifts further apart as the breeze moved it out of their camp.

He heard footsteps on metal, then McKay suddenly stepped out of Jumper One, dumping something on the ground near the ramp. He straightened up, and John saw he was wearing something like a small gas mask over his nose and mouth.

For a moment, John's brain just couldn't process this. "Rodney," he managed to say, his voice coming out hoarse and strange. "What happened?"

McKay flinched and stared at him, his whole body conveying startled guilt. John stared back, realizing he had never seen the little gas mask thing that Rodney was wearing, that it wasn't part of their equipment.

_That's not.... Oh, crap. _ John reached sideways and grabbed nothing but air. His tac vest was folded near his head, his P-90 and holstered sidearm should be sitting atop it. They weren't.

John shoved himself up on his elbows to see McKay, or whatever the hell that was that looked like McKay, backing away. John's head pounded and his vision went gray on the edges, but he shoved free of his sleeping bag and tried to stand. His knees didn't even try to engage, and he fell over face first in the dirt. Shoving himself up with a gasp, he dragged himself the three feet over to where Teyla lay face down in her bedroll, her head pillowed on her arms. He fumbled her hair out of the way but she didn't move, didn't so much as twitch. He felt for her pulse; it was there, and strong. _Not dead; at least not yet. _ That meant the others probably weren't either.

Whatever that was that looked like McKay was watching John warily. He pulled off the filter mask, saying, "It's only an anesthetic. They're unconscious."

John pushed back so he could look up at the guy, wavering as his arms trembled and tried to go slack. Moving abruptly had cleared his head a little more, just enough to realize how badly screwed they were. Part of his brain was screaming; if the Wraith picked now to show up, their camp would be like a free buffet. Gritting his teeth, trying to stay focused and conscious, he grated out, "What the hell are you? What did you do to McKay?"

The guy winced. "You know who I am."

"You're not him." _Unless this is Rodney possessed by some alien...something, _ John thought. He had to know. Teyla's P-90 was gone too, but John knew she kept her sidearm tucked into the top of her sleeping bag and the guy might not have found it when he was collecting their weapons. John would have to reach across her to get it and he wouldn't have a lot of time, and he needed to know whether to shoot to kill or wound. "Is he dead?"

"I don't-- Probably not." NotRodney hesitated, wetting his lips. "They-- We wanted him alive."

That was when John got it. It was the one possibility Rodney hadn't mentioned, that somebody would come in from whatever other universe the mirror was open to.

John went for the pistol, reaching across Teyla to yank it free of the sleeping bag and shuck the holster. But his body wouldn't cooperate, it was like pushing through thick air and just as he thumbed the safety a knee landed on his chest. The gun was knocked out of his hand and then the guy slammed down on top of him. John tried to stick a thumb in his eye but he was too damn slow, and that arm got pinned to his chest and suddenly there was a pistol jammed up under his chin.

John waited, eyes narrow, breathing hard. NotRodney's face was frantic with fear and frustration; it was the expression of some kid who had planned to knock over a convenience store and ended up with hostages and a SWAT team. _But he said it wouldn't be like that Star Trek episode, _ John thought helplessly. He kept that off his face, just saying, "You came through the mirror to kidnap yourself and kill us? How sick is that? What's wrong with you?"

NotRodney's face worked. He smelled like fear sweat and his body was heavy, making it hard for John to get a full breath. "I have to. You ordered me too."

"Since when do you listen to me?" They had two full stargate teams here, and they could afford to lose McKay even less. This was going to cripple Atlantis' defenses.... _Oh, hell no. _ "You're going to replace all of us, take the jumpers back to Atlantis, pretend to be us? Why? How many Atlantises do you need?"

"That's not it." The guy shook his head almost in despair, then the gun pressed harder into John's throat. His voice rising in desperation, he demanded, "How did you make the gateships work? How did you get them to fly? And the lights, the screens-- You didn't even touch anything."

John was startled enough to ask, "How can you not know that?"

The guy stared at him with an increasingly weird hungry look. "Is that the Ancient gene? Do the gateships work for any human that has it?"

"I'm not going to tell you anything." Then John sensed surreptitious movement from the direction of Teyla's sleeping bag. He knew she had a high resistance to the Wraith stunners; if this knockout gas wasn't affecting her like it was the others, if she was coming around.... He added, "And you better move back before you shoot me, otherwise you're going to get pieces of my brain all over your face."

The guy took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself. "It wasn't supposed to be this way. I didn't know how different it was in this universe." He choked out, "And you, I never knew you like this-- I didn't remember how beautiful you were."

_That's really not something you want to hear in this situation. _ John said evenly, "I'd be more comfortable with this conversation if you weren't straddling me while holding a gun to my head."

McKay pulled back a little, distracted. "Just tell me how you made the gateships--"

Then Teyla slammed into him from the side, and John had a free hand to grab the gun barrel and twist it away.

But McKay wrenched the pistol out of his grip and Teyla's grab for it missed by a mile; she must have used nearly everything she had in standing up and throwing herself on him. McKay shoved to his feet, stumbling backward and pointing the pistol at them.

John desperately struggled to sit up and made it about halfway, knowing this was it. He kept his voice calm, trying to make this sound like a reasonable option. "Look, just kill me, all right, leave them alone. I'm the one you're supposed to get, right?"

Then Teyla, damn her, rolled back over and threw herself across John's chest. "If you kill him, you will kill me as well."

"Teyla, get the hell off me!" Calm went out the window and John tried to shove her away, but she wound her hands in his jacket and wouldn't budge. John's negotiating skills weren't that great, especially not when he was drugged and trying to wrestle with a self-sacrificial Athosian. This just couldn't end well. "Damn it, remember that conversation about direct orders?"

Teyla ignored him, twisting around to glare at McKay and say with complete conviction, "If you harm any of us, our friends will find you. There is nowhere in this world or any other that you will be able to hide."

McKay stared at them for a painfully stretched moment. John figured he and Teyla were dead. He just hoped the others made it out of this alive, and Ford could find Rodney somehow, if these crazy mirror bastards hadn't killed him too.

Then McKay swore, his voice nearly a sob, and backed away. He grabbed something off the ground near Jumper One's ramp and ran.

Listening to his footsteps pound off across the field toward the forest, John took a deep breath. Then he reeled over coughing; there were still traces of the damn mist in the air. Teyla rolled off his chest so he could breathe, and he managed to ask her, "Did you see what he took with him?"

"I think it was Dr. McKay's laptop case." Teyla made an effort to stand, then grabbed John's shoulder to steady herself, sinking back down. Sounding woozy, she said, "I do not believe we can go after him at this time, Major."

"I don't think so, either." John pushed himself up and leaned against her and she leaned back, until they were holding each other up. From this angle, he could see their weapons piled up on the other side of Jumper Two's ramp. At the moment, it was a really, really long way. They needed to get over there, but John felt Teyla's head roll sideways. "Stay awake, Teyla."

She jerked upright again. "Will he bring others?"

John shook his head, which made him list to the right and nearly fall over. "If he does, we're dead."

***

  
After watching that performance in the conference room, Rodney thought he knew what was wrong here. As a theory, it still needed to be tested, and he was going to as soon as a) he thought of a way to do it that wouldn't get him killed or worse and b) he could think about it calmly and logically and without having an aneurism from fear.

They had put him at one of the inactive Ancient sensor stations down the control gallery from the conference room, with Benson to watch him and no one else nearby. Rodney asked for tools, opened the bottom of the console, and was pretending to work while thinking frantically, sweating, and wondering when the hell he was going to get rescued from this nightmare.

There had to have been some huge changes in this universe, maybe going as far back as the Ancients' return to Earth. Since Sheppard didn't have the Ancient gene, and Weir did, and was apparently the only one here with it, that could mean the whole history of when the Ancients had returned, where they had settled, how long they had stayed might be radically different.

Rodney edged away from the station for another look around the dimly-lit gateroom, the dark consoles, the people who moved like prisoners. He recognized Grodin, Belloq, Anderson, and painfully, Hays and Dumais, who he had watched die in the real Atlantis. Same faces, but pale and tight with fear. He was used to seeing friends and co-workers be afraid, but not of each other, not of the people who were supposed to be protecting them. _Somehow that change in Earth's history led to this. _ Less access to leftover Ancient technology, maybe. Fewer people who could understand it. If Rodney's duplicate in this universe was an idiot, maybe Samantha Carter's was too; maybe the whole SGC had been filled with lousy scientists, and the people of this Earth just hadn't learned new technologies fast enough to defend themselves.

But frankly, Rodney would be happy never knowing, as long as the not-crazy version of Sheppard showed up to get him out of here. _Well, he's a little crazy, his eyes do that weird thing right before he shoots somebody. And he's incredibly disassociated, but after life in the Pegasus galaxy, so are we all. _ Whatever, it wasn't this brand of insanity. _And what is taking him so damn long? Is it not obvious by now that I'm gone? _ He didn't want to think about any other reason why Sheppard might not have come after him. That these people might have spun the control dial on the mirror, closing off this universe from his, or worse, just shut the mirror down. In that case, if his duplicate was still here somewhere, Rodney could look forward to dying of entropic cascade failure long before Weir decided to kill him.

In between anxiety attacks and trying to think of a way out of here, Rodney had confirmed one part of his theory. He had disconnected the console's readouts and display, then put both hands on it and thought about sensors. A brief check of the power meter told him the console had just initialized.

_Right. So it's not the ATA or the Ancient equipment at fault. _ And if Weir really did have the Ancient gene.... His deeply frightening theory was even more likely. And it would explain why these people had never developed the ATA gene therapy. _Even if it was possible to alter their DNA, the city wouldn't accept their gene anymore than it would accept Weir's. _

Benson stood suddenly, and Rodney looked up, saw someone coming along the gallery. "What-- That's me." He pushed to his feet, staring. Same uniform, same face he saw in the mirror every morning, same hair.

The other version of himself saw him and stopped abruptly, and they stared at each other for a frozen moment. It was like seeing himself on film. He didn't feel any instant connection; it was too unreal.

The other man twitched and started away, avoiding Rodney's eyes, heading for the conference room. That was when Rodney saw the black laptop case slung over his shoulder. This was a parallel universe after all, and these people probably had identical cases, but that one had a large white scuff mark on the lower right corner. It was identical to the one Rodney had taken to M5X-273.

_What the hell-- _ Heart pounding, Rodney started after him. Benson caught him at the entrance to the conference chamber, grabbing his arm and hauling him back, but from inside Weir's amused voice said, "Let him come in." Rodney shook his arm free and stepped inside.

Weir sat in the same chair, with that same calm smile, and Sheppard was sitting on the edge of the table. He was eyeing Rodney's duplicate and the laptop case without enthusiasm. Sheppard said, "That's all you got? It better have something good on it."

His duplicate set the laptop on the table, and said through gritted teeth, "They didn't have much there. They were using the gateships, I couldn't get into their systems."

Rodney listened in growing disbelief. "Wait, you were over there? You took my place? And they bought it?" Oh that was fantastic; apparently he was interchangeable, but never mind that now. "If it was to keep them from knowing I was gone, why are you back here?"

Weir ignored him, asking the other Rodney, "How many were there?"

His duplicate threw an unreadable look back at Rodney, shifting uncomfortably. "Seven. Marines and Air Force, and an SGC archeologist named Corrigan. I only vaguely recognized a couple of the others; their counterparts here must have been killed before I met them, or never came on the expedition. There was also a native woman, apparently acting as a guide, but she was wearing one of our -- their uniforms, and she seemed.... They treated her like she was one of them." He took a sharp breath. "I told you, they can make the gateships work. I saw Sheppard turn the lights off and on and bring up sensor screens without even touching anything. From what I could tell, it was because he had the Ancient gene. There's no trick to it, there's nothing we've been missing."

"We'll talk about the gateships later," Weir said. "Did you do as you were told?"

Rodney watched the other version of himself push away from the table and straighten up. "I used the anesthetic aerosol after they went to sleep. I took out the two men on watch first, then the others. Sheppard didn't get the full dose, and he didn't go all the way under. Neither did the native woman; her physiology must be a little different from human normal."

Rodney's throat was dry. He had been terrified for what felt like hours, but the cold fear settling into his stomach now was entirely different. "What did you do?" he said thickly.

His duplicate said nothing, still watching Weir. "Well?" Sheppard prompted, all lazy malice, apparently enjoying this. "Answer him."

His duplicate twitched, then said through gritted teeth, "I shot them."

Rodney's mind went blank. He took a step forward. "You're lying."

For the first time, his counterpart looked at him. He said deliberately, "Sheppard tried to convince me to leave the others alive, so I shot them first, then him."

Rodney knew he was going to punch him, but he thought he was only going to do it because the man was lying. It wasn't until Rodney slammed him down on the conference table and got his hands around his throat that he knew he was going to kill him because he wasn't lying.

Abrupt pain like an electric shock sent him staggering backward, and he slammed into the wall, gasping.

Weir was on her feet, lowering her hand, the Goa'uld ribbon device glittering gold against her palm. The blast had hit Rodney's counterpart as well, sending him reeling off the table to huddle on the floor.

Sheppard was looking at Rodney with an expression of mild interest. Rodney wiped his face, tasting blood from a bitten lip. Breathing hard, he said, "Sorry to disappoint you, but I knew she was a Goa'uld as soon as I saw her. It's fairly obvious."

Weir ignored him, pacing around the table to stare down at the pitiful excuse for this world's Rodney McKay. "You knew the other Sheppard had the Ancient gene, and you killed him," she said evenly. "Now was that a good idea?"

The man glared up at her. "I was following your orders."

Her voice hardened. "I sent you because I thought you could think for yourself."

He pointed at Rodney. "You sent me because he was the only one who was ever alone with the mirror. And because I'm the only one who could pass for normal long enough to fool them!"

Weir just looked annoyed. "Get out."

The duplicate sat up, wiping the blood off his nose. "I need to shut down the mirror. I would have done it already, but those Neanderthals you have guarding it wouldn't let me."

Weir paced a few steps away, folding her arms. "Why do you need to shut it down?"

The duplicate's mouth twisted and he said pointedly, "They obviously weren't killed by Wraith, there's no other human life on that planet, and even if there were, they wouldn't use a 9mm. The others will come for them when they miss their morning check-in, and it's going to be obvious that someone came through the mirror and killed them."

_He's right, _ Rodney thought bleakly. Bates would come with his team, find the bodies. Carson would be able to tell how they were killed. There had probably been a lot of blood. His counterpart might have left a trail, that Bates or one of the Athosian hunters could follow straight back to the mirror.

Weir frowned, tapping her fingers on her folded arms. "They wouldn't attempt to come after us, surely."

The duplicate threw an unreadable look at Rodney. "They would. They will."

She considered it. "No, I don't want you to shut the mirror down yet. We have some time, as they shouldn't be missed until morning on the planet. I must wait to hear from Lord Osiris. He may order us to make a full assault." She shrugged. "We can bring over the ones who don't already have duplicates here. We can certainly use the new personnel." She added gently, "Now get out."

Rodney watched his counterpart push to his feet. The man hesitated, then stepped past Rodney quickly, avoiding his eyes. Rodney didn't lunge for him again. Beating someone to death wasn't quite his style.

It wasn't as good as something else he had just thought of.

As his counterpart slipped through the doorway, Weir faced Rodney, lifting her brows archly. "You haven't made much progress. Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you."

"How about this?" Rodney stepped back and put his hand on the wall console, thinking, _lights. _ There was a hesitation, and Rodney tried to focus thought and longing. He didn't normally talk to the ATA, but he had seen the jumpers respond to casual comments and strong emotions. _Please. I have to get them to give me access to a computer, and this is the only way. It won't be long, trust me on that one. _

The indirect lighting in the walls flickered on, washing the room's warm metallics with light. To drive the point home, Rodney said, "He was right. There's no trick, there's nothing on my laptop that can help you. You'll never make the ATA work, it doesn't matter if you have the Ancient gene. The city can sense your Goa'uld DNA; it knows you're alien to it and it doesn't want you here, and it won't work for you."

Weir, or the thing that lived inside her, smiled. "That's an acceptable reason."

  
***

  
John wasn't sure how long it took he and Teyla to crawl over past Jumper Two to get their weapons, but at some point in that process the others began to wake.

Ford and Markham were first, staggering in from the perimeter where they had been on watch. Ford was half-dragging Markham, and stayed upright just long enough to dump him at John's feet and then collapse on top of him. Still half unconscious, Ford said woozily, "Major, we think there's a problem." Markham just groaned.

"We noticed," John said grimly, stretching to reach a P-90.

Apparently FakeMcKay had just walked up to them and dropped what Ford described as a little tablet thing on the ground. It had released a white mist and that was the last thing he and Markham remembered.

After about an hour, the stuff seemed to wear off all at once. It must have been dampening their emotions as well as their motor functions, because it wasn't really until then that John realized just how angry he was.

The first thing he did was have Markham and Yamato take Jumper Two up to look for lifesigns. There was no sign of any in their immediate area or around the temple, which meant the fake McKay had already gone back through the mirror. John had Markham stay up to give them air cover and, because John wasn't planning for anybody to sneak in while his back was turned and steal another one of his scientists, he sent Corrigan back to Atlantis, with instructions to have gate control change the radio frequency so their traffic couldn't be monitored. He also had them dial back and keep re-dialing the outgoing wormhole for reporting and coordination. It would keep anyone from dialing out of this gate and prevent any incoming wormholes to Atlantis until they could reset their IDCs. Peter Grodin was also coming up with a set of codewords to make sure they were all who they said they were.

Until John found out otherwise, he was treating this as the first strike in an invasion of Atlantis.

He had Elizabeth on the radio by the time he was prepping Jumper One for take-off, and she agreed. "We have to assume the worst. But I can't think what their motivation is," she said, sounding frustrated. "It's not as if we have a ZPM for them to take."

"I think they saw what they thought was an opportunity and took it," John told her. "I kind of doubt these people came to their version of the Pegasus Galaxy to be peaceful explorers."

Elizabeth didn't answer for a moment. "Do you think he was telling you the truth, that Rodney is alive?"

John didn't want to admit it, but he made himself tell her honestly, "I wouldn't count on it."

They flew to the edge of the forest in Jumper One, leaving it cloaked and shielded in case they needed a quick exit, and they started to make their way back through the darkness under the trees, the damp carpet of leaves and loam softening their footsteps.

"I still don't get it," Ford said tensely. "Why take Dr. McKay? I mean, obviously, they already have one."

"I do not understand either," Teyla said, and she just sounded mad. "It seems pointless and cruel."

John was still on the radio, answering questions while Bates scrambled backup. In the background chatter he could hear Elizabeth talking to someone, sounding both stern and desperately worried. Then Peter Grodin came back on, saying briskly, "Major, I'm patching her in now."

John ducked a branch. "Miko, you there?"

"Yes, Major." Miko was breathing hard, and John heard the frantic click of keys in the background, and more distantly, Dr. Kavanagh yelling and Dr. Zelenka yelling back in Czech. It was the middle of the night in Atlantis, and Miko must have run to the lab from her quarters. The last late-night lab emergency John had been present for, Miko had shown up in a PowerPuff Girls t-shirt and pajama bottoms with bunnies, causing Rodney to stare at her in mute horror. "Dr. McKay downloads backups very frequently, and always before he takes any equipment into the field. He would have had the open files on several of his current projects, in case he had time to work on them, and-- Yes, yes, here it is, this is the backup of the machine he has with him. Dr. Zelenka, here, please--"

"Could it be that our McKay is smarter than theirs, and they just need him for something?" Ford continued.

Listening to Zelenka and Miko go down the list, rating files by their value to an enemy about to breach Atlantis' defenses, John hoped so. Because that meant there was a chance Rodney was still alive.

"But if that's the case--" Stackhouse began.

"Why did they not come to the other side of the glass and simply ask for help?" Teyla finished, her face set.

"Major," Dr. Zelenka said in John's ear. "None of these files-- I cannot see what they would want here. Rodney did not take any codes or data pertaining to security systems--"

"Dr. McKay would never take such information offworld," Miko put in earnestly. "He is very cautious about security."

"If these people are us, everything that is here, it should be common knowledge to them," Zelenka said, sounding baffled. "I do not understand this."

"We don't either, Dr. Zelenka. Patch me back to Grodin."

Miko added breathlessly, "Please, Major, you will get Dr. McKay back?"

It was pointless to make that kind of promise, but John found himself saying, "We'll get him back, Miko." _If he's alive, we'll get him back. I just might have to kill a whole bunch of people who look like us to do it. _ Of course, they were people who had attacked without provocation, kidnapping Rodney, planning to kill whoever got in the way. John was pretty much okay with killing them.

***

The temple was quiet and the lifesigns detector said it was empty. Over the radio, John checked in with Markham to make sure his sensor sweep was still negative. Still, John didn't take any chances, moving in on the temple like he expected it to be full of armed Marines. Familiar-looking armed Marines.

But when John ducked through the doorway, P-90 aimed, the mirror was the same, the silver surface still reflecting nothing but an empty room. He approached cautiously as the others fanned out behind him. "What I don't get is how they snuck up on McKay," John said thoughtfully. "He was keeping one eye on this thing the whole time he was working." _Because he was afraid of it_, he thought. _And damn, wasn't that justified. _

Teyla stepped up beside him. "Perhaps whoever took Dr. McKay approached from the side and slipped around the edge." She frowned, then shot down her own theory. "But that person would still have been clearly visible in the doorway, and as they moved along the front wall."

"Uh huh." John stepped close to the glass, biting his lip in concentration. The surface rippled when his breath touched it, like water. He hadn't come this close to the mirror before, and he realized he was feeling mild vertigo, as if he was standing on a precipice over some unimaginably deep void. He tried to ignore it, focusing on the duplicate temple room in the reflection. Except...it wasn't quite a duplicate. "Hold on. The light in there is different." It was too bright, for one thing.

He leaned as close as he dared, turning his head so his cheek was nearly touching the surface, close enough to feel a faint breath of air from the other side. It didn't smell like the humid mossy air of the temple. He squinted; from this angle he could just glimpse the side wall. And it wasn't the side wall of this room.

"Son of a bitch," John muttered. Instead of a stone wall stained with moss and faded paint, he could see jewel-tones and metallics. "There's a door, an Atlantean door." He stepped back with a grimace. "Okay, now I'm really pissed off. We're not looking at a reflection of this room, we're looking at a projection or something. They must have taken the mirror on their side to their version of Atlantis."

Ford swore and Teyla made a noise very close to a growl. "Bastards set us up," Stackhouse summarized neatly.

That explained how they had been able to get the drop on Rodney. All the mirror people had had to do was enter their room through the side door that wasn't visible from this angle, step around the edge of the mirror, use a Wraith stunner or a taser on Rodney, and drag him back through, leaving the Fake Rodney in his place. It had probably taken no more than a minute at most.

No matter how John craned his neck, he couldn't see any further in from this angle. Whoever was over there must have posted guards. "Teyla, you don't have a hand mirror with you, do you?"

"No, Major, I left it in my pack in the jumper. I will get it."

"Major, I've still got one of Corrigan's cameras." Stackhouse fished a small digital camera out of a pocket of his tac vest. "Will that do?"

"That'll do nicely." John checked to make sure the flash wasn't going to go off, then stuck it through the mirror sideways. The "glass" surface rippled and felt cool and tingly against his skin. He hit the button and pulled the camera back, the mirror releasing it and his hand with a faint pop.

There was a collective gasp from the others. "What?" John asked, mostly occupied with trying to get the display to show him the photo. Teyla was giving him the glare that meant she was looking forward to the next time she could whack the crap out of him with sticks.

"Major, was that a good idea to stick your hand through that thing?" Ford asked, brows lifted dubiously.

John was planning to stick a lot more than his hand through that thing. The photo display held an image of a typical Atlantean door, copper metallic panels with colored glass-patterned inserts, standing partly open. Past it John could see the backs of two Marines, facing away. _Only two guards. Huh. I wonder if Fake Rodney told them he killed us, as ordered. _ "Ford, you brought extra ordnance, didn't you?"

Ford brightened immediately. "Sure did, sir."

"Okay then." John lifted a brow, eyeing the mirror deliberately. "This is what we're going to do--"

***

In the dark gateroom, Rodney was working at a station with a laptop, entering the last line of code, when he realized the other Sheppard was standing over him. Sheppard said, "How's it going?"

Rodney grimaced. It helped, a little, that he had never heard the real Sheppard's voice sound that dull and uninflected. He concentrated to initialize the life support console two stations away; it lit up like a Christmas tree. The ATA had never responded to him this readily in his Atlantis, but this city seemed extra sensitive, as if it had been waiting too long, desperate for stimulus. Or maybe it knew what he was doing and was trying to help. Or maybe Rodney had just snapped at some point and was imagining the city was a sentient, sympathetic entity. "Does that answer your question?"

"Not really." But Sheppard didn't pursue it, looking away toward the stargate, as if he had already lost interest.

Rodney stared up at him. The real Sheppard -- the dead one -- had never looked that distant. Rodney had seen the real Sheppard playing dumb, acting as if his brain was on a different planet from the current conversation, only to go abruptly focused and dangerous. He had never seen him look this...appallingly blank, as if hope wasn't even a viable concept. Because he desperately needed to get his mind off bloody pathetically dead bodies lying next to jumpers, even if just for a second, Rodney asked, "When did the Goa'uld invade Earth?"

It surprised him when Sheppard answered readily, "Eight years ago."

Rodney nodded slowly. _That's about right._ It said something about destiny, or maybe just Rodney's terrible luck, that his universe had narrowly avoided that fate, only for him to end up here anyway. "You came here for the Ancient technology?"

"Partly." Sheppard shrugged, eyes still distant. "There's too many Goa'uld in our galaxy. They need new territory."

"How many are here?"

He shook his head. "On Atlantis, just Weir. In Pegasus, hundreds. We find worlds for them, they gate in from Earth, pick the planet they want, and take it. Or fight the Wraith for it."

Rodney swallowed, his throat dry. This was probably a bad idea, but he had to know. He had to be certain. There was only one reason he could think of that Sheppard -- in any universe -- wouldn't have kept trying to escape until he succeeded or the Goa'uld killed him. "You're a Jaffa now, aren't you? That's how you survived being taken by the Wraith. The symbiote healed you."

That actually provoked an expression. Sheppard sneered. "Wow, you really are a genius." He looked down at Rodney. "We're all Jaffa, McKay, including your twin."

_Okay, eww. _ Rodney suppressed a shudder, gritting his teeth. "Did she.... Is Weir.... Is she a Goa'uld Queen?"

Sheppard looked away again, the sneer faded back to that dead blankness. "No, that was Hathor. She made most of the Jaffa on Earth. Weir bought me from her before we came here." He added, "McKay did your friends a favor."

Rodney's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"By shooting them." Sheppard turned away, strolling down the control gallery again.

Rodney waited until he was out of earshot, before he said softly, "I'll keep that in mind."

***

They waited for Markham to fly Bates and his men over from the stargate, so the security detail could secure the room in the temple. John was only taking volunteers through the mirror, but both gateteams wanted to go.

John stepped through the mirror first, using a Wraith stunner that Bates had brought to knock out the two guards in the corridor. The stunner had the virtue of being quiet; if possible, he wanted to keep this a stealth operation until the last possible moment.

Ford and Yamato dragged the two guards into the room and got them secured with plastic handcuff ties. "That's funny," Ford commented, "Both these guys have zats."

John checked the lifesigns detector and then took a cautious look up and down the poorly lit corridor, more startled by the jury-rigged electric lighting. It did explain why Evil McKay had been so interested in how they had gotten the jumpers working, why he kept asking questions about the Ancient gene. "The hell? They're living here without being able to initialize the city?"

"This is disturbing and unpleasant," Teyla agreed, stepping out into the corridor behind him. "If they cannot use the Ancestors' technology, what use do they have for the city at all?"

"Good question," John told her.

After they had made their way up two more floors in the operations tower, John was willing to take disturbing and unpleasant and raise it by downright creepy. How could these people live like this, why bother to stay? He wasn't even sure the plumbing worked without being initialized by the Ancient gene. And the problem with the Ancient technology not working certainly wasn't in the ATA. John was having real difficulty not initializing things. The lights would flicker until he hastily thought them off, and the bubble pillars made burping noises whenever he brushed against one.

They also hadn't seen anybody moving around but armed guards, in patrols of two, that they had quietly taken out. No scientists off shift, no techs running errands. Either this expedition hadn't brought many civilians, or no one but military personnel were allowed to move through the corridors.

"They all have zats," Ford said incredulously, straightening up from the most recent two unconscious mirror-verse Marines he had just tied up. "We didn't even get BDUs that fit, and they all have zats."

Leaning out to peer around the next corner, splitting his attention between the cross-corridor and the lifesigns detector, John was hardly surprised that their universe had the short end of the stick as far as supplies went. Still.... "That's weird. Don't they normally save those for gateteams and espionage?"

"These weapons are not common on your world?" Teyla asked with a puzzled frown, flattened against the wall next to John.

"They're Goa'uld weapons," Ford explained. "The SGC has a supply, but we don't manufacture them."

John was starting to get a really bad feeling about this place. "They don't have the Ancient gene to turn the city on, but they brought Goa'uld weapons for everybody?"

Ford stepped to put his back against the wall. "Yeah, and they thought raiding us was a good idea. That's either crazy or--"

The lifesigns detector showed a blip approaching, and John whispered into his radio, "Stackhouse, one coming your way."

Stackhouse answered, "I see him, Major. Whoa, it's Dr. McKay, and he's alone."

"Then it's McKay's evil twin Skippy. Get ready." John slipped around the corner, putting his back against one of the big square pillars.

He heard Fake Rodney's footsteps in the corridor, then the man passed him, stopping abruptly when Stackhouse stepped out of the cross-corridor with Markham, blocking his way. Fake Rodney huffed in annoyance, saying, "I've been ordered to--" He paused, his voice rising in alarm. "Wait, hold it, you're--"

The words turned into a muffled yelp when John grabbed him by the back of his uniform jacket and swung him around to shove him face first into the wall. Keeping his voice low and emphatic, John said into his ear, "Look, Skippy, you didn't shoot us when you had the chance, so I'm going to do you a favor. Instead of putting a bullet in your leg and then asking you questions, I'm just going to beat the crap out of you until you tell me what I want to know."

Fake Rodney's voice came out an octave higher. "Or I could just tell you now."

"That would work too."

***

_The Goa'uld-sponsored Atlantis expedition,_ John thought grimly. _Well, that explains a lot._

Fake Rodney had told them about Weir, and that all the expedition personnel had been turned into Jaffa before being brought here. Ford had verified that by checking the last two unconscious Marines; he came back to where they were holding Fake Rodney, grimacing and wiping one hand off on his jacket, saying, "I wish I hadn't seen that."

At least now they knew Real Rodney was being held on the control gallery. But Fake Rodney insisted there was no way anybody would listen to any attempt by him to get Real Rodney brought down here, and he was frightened enough that John was inclined to believe him. "Right. We'll just have to do it the hard way," John decided.

Again, according to the Fake Rodney, John was the only one who had a duplicate still alive in this universe. So he was going to have to walk in there and get Rodney out.

Nobody else liked the plan any better than he did, but they didn't have a lot of time to screw around here before the alarm was raised. While Markham held a gun to Fake Rodney's head, John held up the mirrorverse headset radio. "Call Sheppard. Tell him you found an unconscious security patrol on the west side, level twenty-eight."

Fake Rodney took the headset, but hesitated. "If he doesn't leave...don't kill him."

John's eyes narrowed. He really wasn't in the mood. "I'm not going to promise you anything. It's not like you'd believe me if I did."

Fake Rodney took a sharp breath. "You have a point."

***

  
The dim lighting would help, and the fact that even when everybody knew there was an active Quantum Mirror lying around, they tended not to immediately leap to the conclusion that someone who was acting a little funny had actually been replaced by a counterpart from another universe. But Fake Rodney had spilled the fact that John's Jaffa duplicate had been fed on by a Wraith and looked older; John knew that if anybody got a close look at him, the shooting part would have to start early.

It also didn't help that all John knew about the Goa'uld was what he had read in the SGC reports available to the expedition.

Ford had explained quietly, "If she comes out, we could be in trouble. There's a shield they use, kind of like an Ancient personal shield, but not as good. Slow moving things, like a throwing knife, will get through it. Bullets won't, and zats won't, and I'm betting the Wraith stunner won't either."

"Great. I knew we should have brought the bows and arrows," John said under his breath.

With Teyla, John worked his way up the shadowy staircase, just far enough to get a view of the control gallery. The big room was like a cave, the few strings of lights only making the unlit spaces seem darker. At first John couldn't recognize anybody, then he spotted his duplicate at the far end of the gallery.

_Okay, this is...deeply weird._ From this distance, the resemblance was pretty damn exact. John had already traded his pistol for a zat, since that was what all the security patrols had, and the guy was wearing the same uniform, so that helped. _No P-90, no tac vest, check._ John shed those rapidly, handing them off to Teyla, who mouthed "Good luck," and hurried back down the stairs to where Ford and the others waited.

After another moment, John heard Markham whisper on the radio, "He's made the call, Major." John clicked the radio back in response, then saw his duplicate head off in the opposite direction along the gallery, a couple of guards turning to accompany him. _And our luck never changes,_ he thought sourly. If the guy had come this way, John could have signaled the others to take him out once he got out of sight of the gallery. Now John was just going to have to hope nothing made his duplicate change his mind and return here in the next five minutes.

John opened his jacket the way his duplicate had been wearing it and started along the gallery, trying to look casual, and hoping this wasn't the dumbest thing he had ever done.

As he came around the curve toward the conference room, he spotted Rodney sitting at one of the Ancient consoles, typing on the laptop and pausing occasionally to hit a crystal touchpad. John knew that was the console used to control the city's power, that in their Atlantis now controlled the naquadah generators brought from Earth. _What the hell is he doing?_ he wondered. Whatever it was, Rodney was grimly intent on it. Keeping his head down, John walked at a normal pace. A few other people were working on laptops at the other stations, but nobody looked up, which was what he had been hoping for. Apparently in this universe he was just that much of a crazy bastard.

He stopped beside Rodney. "Hey," he whispered.

Rodney glanced up, did a double-take, and went white, his eyes widening. In a low choked voice, he said, "They told me you were dead."

"They lie a lot. Come on."

Rodney pushed his chair back slowly, throwing a nervous look down the gallery. "So is anybody dead?"

"We are, if you draw any attention," John said pointedly, keeping his voice low. He couldn't look up to see if anybody was staring at them and it was making every nerve in his body twitch.

"Seriously, he said he shot the others first and then you."

Rodney was pushing to his feet, though he was starting to visibly shake. From relief and shock, maybe; the son of a bitch must have really convinced him that he had killed everybody in camp. "Nobody's dead. He changed his mind at the last minute." John took hold of Rodney's arm, tugging him away from the console.

"Okay, okay," Rodney said mostly to himself, still shaken. "That's...that's.... That does gives me an issue with what I just did."

"What did you just--" As they turned away toward the end of the gallery, three Marines rushed up the stairs from the lower level of the gateroom. They blocked the gallery exit, aiming zats.

_Crap, looks like it's going to be Plan B,_ John thought, putting on the affable smile he only used when he was picking out who to shoot first. "Sorry, just stopped by to pick up McKay here. Thanks for looking after him, guys," he said, so the others would hear it on his open radio. He added to Rodney, "Just wait till I get you home." He heard the faint "message received" click in his ear.

"Right, sorry, I just got a little tied up," Rodney played along breathlessly.

"I can imagine."

"Oh, I'm not sure you can," Rodney said fervently.

The people working along the gallery were looking up, startled and afraid. "Put your hands behind your head!" a Marine shouted.

John complied slowly, and one came forward, reaching to take the zat out of John's holster. John moved at the last instant, punching the marine in the face and using his body as a shield as he drew the zat. He got one shot off, catching one of the others before the man could fire. Rodney grabbed for the zat John's human shield had dropped and John drew breath to shout for Ford.

Then something hit John from behind, like a blow to the kidney from an electric cattle-prod. It knocked him sideways, slamming him into one of the dead Ancient consoles, and he doubled over it, unable to move for a moment. The crystalline readouts under his hands blinked, then suddenly every light in the gateroom burst on. He heard people cry out in alarm, then the light vanished, leaving the room washed in darkness.

Breathing hard, John managed to get his stunned muscles working, and levered himself up. He looked back to see Elizabeth Weir, or the creature that was wearing her body, stroll toward them, stopping a few paces away. "That was impressive," Weir remarked, idly adjusting the gold and crystal weapon on her palm. "I'm not quite sure I believed in this 'Ancient gene' until now."

John pushed himself off the console, telling her, "Glad I could clear that up for you." This had just gone from weird to freakish nightmare. He couldn't help but wonder if there was anything of the real Elizabeth still in there, trapped and watching helplessly. From the expression on the Goa'uld's face, he really hoped not.

The blast had hit Rodney too, knocking him to the gallery floor. He rolled over and climbed unsteadily to his feet, saying urgently, "She's a Goa'uld."

"I know, Rodney," John told him grimly.

"They're all Jaffa."

"I know that, too."

"Then why is this rescue going so horribly wrong?" Rodney hissed.

Weir was watching them with mingled contempt and amusement. "It was very foolish of you to attempt this. I have a security camera trained on the gallery, and I knew what you were as soon as I saw you. From a distance you may look the same as my Sheppard, but your walk is completely different."

"Next time I have to impersonate myself I'll keep that in mind," John said. Then his duplicate walked up the gallery behind Weir. It was John's first close-up view, and he thought, startled, _Wow, I look like hell._ He had been expecting it, but somehow...not like this. The guy's eyes were dead; he didn't even look vaguely interested to see a copy of himself.

"I suppose it isn't surprising our McKay lied about killing you." Weir lifted her brows, amused. "He was always too soft, and we never could trust him to do anything right. And it certainly explains why he was so eager to shut down the mirror." She smiled at the derisive noise Rodney made, continuing, "But it's for the best." She eyed John thoughtfully, letting her gaze drift down his body, then gestured to the Sheppard standing behind her. "And our version of you has gotten rather worn out. It would be interesting to start over with a fresh model."

John bit his lip, pretending to think about it. _ Add this to the list of things I never expected to have to deal with in the Pegasus Galaxy._ Two copies of the same person couldn't live for long in one universe; if she wanted to keep John, she would have to kill the duplicate. _If that's enough to make him turn on her...._ The other Sheppard just rolled his eyes and looked bored. _Or not. _ John said, "Sorry, I already have a job. But thanks for the offer, it was really special."

Weir smiled archly. "Oh, this will be a treat. Hathor told me you were particularly...difficult. But this time I'll have the pleasure of breaking you myself."

"Funny, that's exactly what my last three commanding officers said," John told her.

Then Rodney said stiffly, "Before you get too set on trading up, you should know I activated the city's self destruct. You have twenty minutes before the naquadah generators explode, causing a chain reaction which should destabilize the naquadah in both the stargate and the Quantum Mirror." As if that wasn't plain enough, he added, "This city is going to be in lots of little pieces."

Startled, John stared at him. "Seriously?"

"Yes." Rodney lifted his chin. "That's the issue I mentioned. It bothered me a little for a minute there, but I'm over it now."

Weir stared at them, incredulous and still amused. "We don't have a self-destruct."

Rodney assured her, "You do now."

The amusement changed to impatience. "The computer we gave you didn't have access to our system--"

Rodney snorted. "Please. I used it to initialize and activate the Ancient network, then hacked your system from there."

John was certain this wasn't a bluff. He didn't think Rodney could fake that expression of contempt and smug superiority. His duplicate must have known it too: his gaze had sharpened with alarm as he looked from Weir to Rodney.

Weir's eyes did the creepy gold flash that John had only seen before in documentary video. Her voice took on a weird timbre as she said, "You're lying."

Rodney's mouth twisted into a wholly sincere sneer. "No, that would be your version of me. I deliver what I promise."

John found himself meeting his duplicate's eyes. He said, "He's not lying."

Her voice grating, Weir shouted, "Turn it off!"

Rodney twitched uneasily but didn't back down. "I can't. I didn't program any way to halt the sequence once it started."

_Now that part's probably bullshit,_ John thought, and saw the thought reflected in his counterpart's face. John lifted a brow in challenge. Then his duplicate looked at Weir and said, "Tell him you'll let them go if he stops it."

Weir ignored him, snarling at Rodney, "You will halt the self-destruct." She lifted the hand with the crystal weapon and John didn't have time to do more than fall back a step.

The blast knocked him to the floor. He rolled over, gasping for air, twitching as nerves fired at random. "Rodney," John managed to croak, "Don't stop it."

Weir growled, "Tell me how to stop it, or you will both die screaming."

His face desperate and afraid, Rodney looked from John to Weir. He swallowed and said, "Frankly, I'd find it preferable to living here. And you've only got eighteen minutes now."

John, trying to push himself up, missed the moment when his duplicate made the decision. He saw the man step up behind Weir, saw her jerk and freeze as he cut her throat. Rodney yelped, starting back as the blood ran down Weir's uniform. Even knowing what she was, seeing that, seeing himself doing it, still made John wince.

His duplicate caught her as she collapsed, stabbing the knife into the back of her neck, twisting it, making sure to kill the creature inside her. Then he dropped her and told Rodney, "I know you can turn it off."

John shoved to his feet. "But he's not going to." He raised his voice to a shout, "Now, Ford!"

Two hissing smoke grenades landed on the gallery and burst into a haze of smoky vapor. Gunfire sprayed the upper level from the direction of the stargate's embarkation floor, from where Ford, Teyla, and Yamato had slipped into the lower level. John's duplicate ducked back away from the bullets striking the wall near him and people screamed and dove for cover. John slammed into the nearest Marine, turning the man's own zat on him and triggering it, wrenching it away as the Marine collapsed. He shouted, "Fall back, fall back!" into the radio and grabbed Rodney, shoving him toward the stairs.

They ran through the haze of obscuring smoke, Rodney gasping with relief when Stackhouse appeared at the end of the gallery, firing at the guards running in from the other side.

They plunged down the stairs and Ford, Teyla, and Yamato met them at the next landing, Teyla tossing John his P-90. At the next turn, Markham was holding Fake McKay. "Let him go," John yelled, and Markham shoved McKay down the corridor as a distraction to their pursuers.

They fell back in stages and John shot three mirrorverse Marines who got too close, but it was his duplicate who was leading the pursuit, and he realized he wasn't that keen on shooting himself. He had enough issues, he really wasn't eager to add this one to the pile.

They reached the mirror room, John ducking in last. He yelled, "Go!" and thought the door closed, but the bastards were already at it, prying it open. John turned to fire three bursts, temporarily scattering them back as the others jumped through the mirror. John stepped backwards through it just as their pursuers burst into the room.

The mirrorverse group slid to an abrupt halt, John's duplicate in front. They probably hadn't expected to see Bates and five more heavily armed Marines waiting on the other side of the glass.

Rodney stumbled to a halt between Stackhouse and Markham, pointing back wildly at the control device. "Turn the dial!"

John was still facing the mirror, P-90 aimed, and he took a long step sideways to reach the control.

"Wait!" someone shouted, and John actually stopped, thinking it was Rodney. But in the mirror the other McKay pushed past the Marines and the other Sheppard, shouting, "Tell me how to stop the self-destruct! Please! That's all we want."

John had one hand on the control dial and he didn't intend to stop. No matter what these people had gone through, they were what they were now, and there was no way he could leave them in Atlantis, even an Atlantis in another universe. Then from behind him, Rodney said, "You have two hours and forty-five minutes to evacuate the city. That's plenty of time."

There was a moment of frozen silence on both sides of the mirror, then John said, brows lifting, "You said twenty minutes."

"I was lying." Rodney pushed forward, stopping when Ford and Teyla shifted in front of him to keep anybody on the other side of the mirror from getting ideas. He ignored them, telling John, "What? I'm not suicidal, I was going to blow one of their smaller generators early as a distraction, then try to escape through the mirror. I wanted to give myself plenty of time."

"You could have said something," John pointed out, exasperated.

"When? During the frantic running and shooting?" He added to the other McKay, "I told the Ancient database to destroy itself, but you should still have some time before it completes the process. There are hundreds of gate addresses there the Goa'uld won't have. I suggest you do something smart for once, pick one, and get the hell out of there."

John saw the other Sheppard and the other McKay look at each other. Then he spun the dial.

The mirror flickered through images almost too fast to process -- John saw the temple room was empty or ruined, or occupied with versions of himself, Rodney, Ford, Teyla, Bates, the other Marines, all in different combinations, sometimes with Corrigan, Zelenka, Beckett, Simpson, or half a dozen other scientists. The variety increased, and he saw that sometimes Colonel Sumner was with them, sometimes General O'Neill, or Dr. Jackson, or General Hammond, or Colonel Carter, other familiar and unfamiliar faces, sometimes posed as they were, armed and alert and watching the mirror, sometimes with laptops and other equipment spread around the room, looking up in surprise. It was making him dizzy, and incredibly creeped out. "Rodney, how do you shut this damn thing off?" he asked a little desperately.

"Here, here, here, it should be--" Rodney stepped up beside him, touched the control, and the mirror went dark.

John took a deep breath, exchanging a grimly relieved look with Rodney.

"That was truly weird," Ford commented, lowering his weapon. There was a mutter of agreement from the others.

Teyla added fervently, "Let us not do that again for a very, very long time."

***

An hour later they were back in Atlantis, the fully functioning non-Goa'uld-infested Atlantis, standing around in the medlab waiting to be checked to make sure they hadn't brought back any souvenirs. John really wanted a shower, food, and sleep, maybe not in that order, but they were stuck here for the duration.

After the evil Goa'uld version of Atlantis, it all felt very normal, with the Marines teaching Teyla to play poker using cracked and moldy tictacs and M&amp;Ms for stakes, and Bates managing to step on Beckett's toes about the organization while John's back was turned for two seconds, causing Beckett to add increasingly invasive procedures to what they already had to go through to be certified as Goa'uld-free. Rodney emerged from the MRI bay, ruffled and glaring. John asked him, "You okay?"

"No," Rodney said, jerking his jacket back into place. "I'm badly traumatized and I'm going to need therapy for the rest of my short painful life, and probably some sort of anti-psychotic medication. And that was before being molested by someone who worked his way through medical school worming sheep. His bedside manner is the reason he's considered the foremost expert in xenobiology rather than anything involving human patients." He paused thoughtfully. "Oh, did you mean did I have a Goa'uld implanted or a chest bomb or a neural chip or anything? No, not according to Carson. If you can believe him."

"That's good." John nodded. He was fully expecting the next tirade to be aimed at him, for not recognizing Fake Rodney was fake immediately, and was formulating a response involving how they had all been bowled over by the duplicate's winning personality.

But then Rodney shifted uneasily and looked away. He said quietly, "I knew he'd do it. Not to save himself, to save the others. He had to have something left, some reason to stay alive, or he would have made her kill him."

There wasn't a lot of responses John wanted to make to that, so he just said, "I knew it, too."

  
**end**


End file.
